


A Wandering Guest in Worlds Unknown

by neglectedrainbow



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: "Instead of killing Burr Hamilton invited Burr to kill him.", Emotions, Historical Accuracy, Major character death - Freeform, Religion, a character study, i cried five times, i just finished the Hamilton biography, please therapy is good for everyone, real quotes, throwing away your shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 06:08:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6503923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neglectedrainbow/pseuds/neglectedrainbow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hamilton loves his family, but they deserve more than him.  They deserve a martyred creator, a brilliant writer that was savagely killed in a duel.  They deserve a perfect ghost, and that’s what he will give him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Wandering Guest in Worlds Unknown

_AH! whither, whither, am I flown,  
A wandering guest in worlds unknown?_

He wants to scream. He wants to yell and shout and shriek until someone notices him, until someone runs forward and grabs him, holds him close, and helps him. He imagines telling someone, telling his John about all the horrible thoughts rushing through his mind. But John isn’t here, John will never come back, and Alex needs to accept that.

_What is that I see and hear?  
What heav’nly music fills mine ear?_

His vision blurs around the edges, a blackness enveloping his sight. Alex can’t see, he can’t breathe or function. His heart pounds. He wants to die.

_Ethereal glories shine around;  
More than Arabia's sweets abound._

The thought absorbs him occasionally, one of the afterlife and of a better, unknown world. He normally doesn’t allow it to stay, pushes it away or uses such a through to propel himself forward. Alex writes and writes and writes, because he knows he is running out of time.

_Hark! hark! A voice from yonder sky,  
Methinks I hear my Saviour cry._

He doesn’t let it show, though. He’s worked a lot on hiding his emotions recently. Years ago, Alex was pathetically awful at lying. He has become better. But, the thought of death never leaves him, only grows and strengthens within his active mind. Until, one day, he makes his final decision. Alexander finally sees how he can protect his legacy, how he can die happily. And, suddenly, he doesn't need to scream anymore. He can breathe again.

_Come gentle spirit, come away,  
Come to thy Lord without delay;_

Hamilton has provoked outrage before, time and time again, and he is fully prepared to do so once more. He speaks with hatred about Burr, waiting until the inevitable challenge presents itself. He accepts, and then he waits. He truly waits, an uncommon task for him, but he manages it nonetheless. Hamilton organizes a party, one where he can present the best last memory to reside in everyone’s minds. Now, he stands before his audience, grinning down at the other party members. They watch him with soft smiles. A silent pride fills his chest, until he spots his wife. Eliza’s eyes never leave him, though he is careful not to meet her gaze. It would shatter him, that kind adoration. He deflates. He doesn’t deserve her. He never has.

_For thee the gates of bliss unbar’d  
Thy constant virtue to reward._

Aaron Burr sits, separately from all others, and carefully observes Alexander’s actions. Burr looks morose and fidgety. He’s obviously uncomfortable. Alex stares into Burr’s eyes for a few moments and then snickers. He purposefully twists his face into an expression of predatory excitement and laughs as Burr’s own expression freezes. One of Hamilton’s old military friends shouts for him to sing. He declines at first, blushing and turning his head away. Others join in the cajoling. Eliza smiles and shouts for a song. Burr just stares ahead, his face blank. Alexander locks eyes with him, pushes his chest forward, and exclaims, “Well, you shall have it!” Cheers erupt throughout the audience. 

_I come oh Lord! I mount, I fly.  
On rapid wings I cleave the sky;_

He sings and allows himself to bask in the cheers and excitement. He doesn’t enjoy it, not like he normally does. He’s been called a complete performer before, one groomed to put on a show and thrive on applause alone, but the noise doesn’t even register today. With his eyes trained on Burr, Hamilton completes his song with a sneer. To Burr, Hamilton whispers with his eyes, “I want to die, and I can’t do it myself. You need to kill me.” Burr stares at him, and, ever so subtly, nods. Burr might be ruined, but he'll probably only profit from the whole matter. As he stands now, Burr won't be remembered. By agreeing to do this, his legacy will be secured as well.

_Stretch out thine arm and aid my flight;  
For oh! I long to gain that height,_

As a child, Hamilton had always daydreamed of dying a noble death, preferably in battle, with his soldiers by his side and leadership in his hand. Washington thwarted this idea, but that doesn’t mean Alexander’s chance is gone. Dueling would create a heroic death, he imagines. Burr will be seen as a fighter, a murderer, yes, but mostly a powerful gentlemen. Eliza and the children will be devastated, of course, but he’s sure that they will pull through in the end. They always do.

_Where all celestial beings sing  
Eternal praises to their King._

It will be better afterwards. Hamilton is certain of that. He knows that the Lord will bring him to Heaven. After death, Hamilton will watch over his family, walk the Grange as a spirit, and finally, truly live. Hamilton will only truly live after his death. If he is murdered in a passionate duel, no one will dare to speak ill of him again. All those slanderous writers, those impassioned villains of the press and back-rooms, will forever regret their actions. His worse enemies will mourn him. Alex is certain of this beautiful outcome.

_O Lamb of God! thrice gracious Lord  
Now, now I feel how true thy word;_

After he heads home that night and all others have fallen to sleep, he slips out of bed, kissing his strong wife’s skin quietly. He writes to Eliza, explains that he must duel, that refraining from doing so would cause more harm than anything else. He expresses how he could not bear to kill another human being. “I humbly hope from redeeming grace and divine mercy, a happy immortality…” he writes. “I need to tell you the pangs I feel from the idea of quitting you and exposing you to the anguish which I know you would feel… The consolations of religion, my beloved, can alone support you and these you have a right to enjoy. Fly to the bosom of your God and be comforted.”

“With my last idea, I shall cherish the sweet hope of meeting you in the better world,” he concludes. “Adieu best of wives and best of women. Embrace all my darling children for me. Ever yours, A H.” Hamilton seals the letter, walking downstairs to the childrens' room with a careful steadiness. 

A small orphaned boy, one the Hamiltons had recently taken in as their own for some time, sits on a shared bed, watching John Church sleep quietly. The boy looks up at Alex's approaching form with wide eyes. Hamilton gazes at him, before quietly kneeling down and placing the boy’s hands in his own. Alex stares at young palms. The hands appear so dwarfed and miniature in his own. He looks at the boy, and an understanding passes between them. They are both orphans, still. They are both alone in this world, despite however much they try. The boy stares into Hamilton’s eyes, and, together, they recite the Lord’s Prayer.

Hamilton holds the boy, who clutches to him with a unspeakable fervor, until the small youth falls asleep. Alexander stands up, tucks the boy in, kisses the foreheads of his children, and walks to the central room. He lights a small candle. It’s three o’clock in the morning. By the dim candlelight, he composes a sweet hymn for Eliza. Once he seals all his farewell letters--for he is certain that he will be gone at the end of this affair, at least mortally--Hamilton tours the house, studying each member of his family once again. He loves them, and they deserve more than him. They deserve a martyred creator, a brilliant writer that was savagely killed in a duel. They deserve a perfect ghost, and that’s what he will give him. 

_Translated to this happy place,  
This blessed vision of thy face;_

He grabs a pistol once used by Philip Hamilton and pockets his glasses and one of Eliza's handwritten notes. And then Hamilton leaves, never looking back, and boards a small boat with a few others. He arrives in Weehawken a few hours later. By thirty minutes after seven, Alexander Hamilton is facing Burr. Aaron Burr, the vice president, looks at him, cautiously, and the two exchange a small nod. They have an understanding. Everything will be better after this. Burr will be rid of Hamilton, of his antagonist, of the one person that stood in the way of his power. And Hamilton will be rid of this never-ending pain. They'll be remembered, together, for all the years to come.

They count off in the soft rising sun. Hamilton puts on his glasses. He wants to be certain in his ability to completely miss Burr. Then, he rises his gun into the air and fires towards the top of a tree, just as a searing pain rips through him. He’s never experiences pain this intense, and he cannot help but thrive. He knows that he will die. 

He will finally rise up. He will rise up, drift to Heaven and meet his mother. By throwing away his shot, he isn't giving up; he is doing the best for everyone. He will see John again, his love. He will see Philip, his first child. He will see Washington, his mentor. And, soon enough, Eliza and the children will meet him again, in a world so much better than this one. As the agony spreads, a small smile spreads across Hamilton’s face. The world will finally be perfect.

He is taken back across the Hudson River. Eliza, Angelica, and the children stay by his bedside. He summons a bishop, telling the man faintly, “I have no ill will against Colonel Burr. I met him with a fixed resolution to do him no harm. I forgive all that happened.” Hamilton will die without any anger, only thanking Burr for this gift and hoping he'll rise up as well.

Hamilton asks to be given holy communion. He cannot wait to meet the Lord. As his faith envelops Hamilton, he lays back softly, kisses each of his children from his bed, clutches Eliza’s hand, and proclaims himself as finally happy.

_My soul shall all thy steps attend  
In songs of triumph without end._

**Author's Note:**

> COMMENTS ARE MY LIFE, LIBERTY, AND PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS. I WILL RESPOND TO THEM ALL, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING THIS. 
> 
> This is completely historically accurate to the best of my abilities.
> 
> I just finished Ron Chernow's biography of Hamilton (I cried no less than five times) which discusses Hamilton's final few hours deeply on page 690. "Hamilton's decision [to throw away his fire] has given rise to speculation that he was severely depressed and that the duel was suicidal. Henry Adams phrased it, 'Instead of killing Burr [Hamilton] invited Burr to kill him.' Historian Douglas Adair has evoked a guilt-ridden Hamilton who planned to atone for his sins by exposing himself to Burr's murderous gunfire. In 1978, four psychobiographers studied the duel and also concluded that it was disguised suicide." I used this idea and expanded it. I implore you all to read this book, because it is truly amazing.
> 
> All quotes I used were true, and Hamilton did spend his last night alive with a small orphaned boy that his family had taken in. The poem interspersed throughout it is one of my favorite poems of all time. It was written by Alexander Hamilton during his childhood in St. Croix. Thank you so much.


End file.
